Never Too Old
by Andromeda Khun
Summary: Harry Potter and Ron Weasely have been struck by a horrible, irreversable disease: old age.


**House: Eagles**

**Class: Care of Magical Creatures**

**Category: Standard**

**Prompt: Event: Quidditch Tryouts**

**Word Count: 1166**

Harry Potter peered at his array of pills and grunted. The doctor was robbing him blind with all these prescribed medicines… Harry could already feel his eyes starting to go. However, Muggle medicine was extremely effective, albeit distinctly unmagical. _Well,_ he thought, _There goes the most exciting part of my day. _The rest of his day was either spent napping or reminiscing about the "good old days" with Ron.

On this particular afternoon, the world seemed especially trying.

Harry glanced at his empty bingo sheet in disgust. "Ron," he whispered, "I think someone is using Felix Felicis here."

A wrinkled old man with a few strands of red hair looked up. "Whaaaa?" Ron shouted, "Could you say that a little louder?"

Harry hissed louder, "Someone is using Felix Felicis to cheat on our bingo game."

"Mate, we're in a _retirement home_. If someone had the funds to get Felix Felicis, they wouldn't be here." Ron eyed him. "Are you just trying to make something exciting happen again? We don't need a repetition of the rat poison incident."

Harry slammed his hand on the table, winced at the pain, then spat, "Dammit we need our lives again! We need something to do, something to inspire us, something to give us purpose again…."

As if by divine intervention, Harry noticed a newspaper article. An article quite literally shouting that the Chudley Cannons Quidditch Team was holding preliminary tryouts the next day.

So, the next day, two very old men walked onto a Quidditch field, drawing no shortage of stares.

Harry glanced at their competition: fifteen youths, with energy and strength practically emanating from them. He cracked a smile. This would be easy.

Suddenly, he realized some American woman was yelling at him. "What is it?" Harry grumbled.

"It's time to get on your brooms. The test is starting."

Ron squinted at her. "Isn't there an age limit for this sort of thing?"

The woman shrugged. "We let our children zoom around at fatal heights. I don't see the problem in letting ancient geezers do it."

"Geezers?! Harry and I aren't a day over thirty-five!"

She snorted, then shouted, "All right, everyone! This is the first test: fly six laps around the stadium as fast as possible!"

Calmly, Harry swung his leg over the broom-grimacing as his joints popped. _My first time flying a broom since I retired from being an Auror._

Somehow, his old Firebolt knew what to do. It rose slowly and Harry laughed, urging his Firebolt to accelerate.

At this point, Ron zoomed past him, manically cackling. The other competitors zipped about serenely.

Harry strained, and forced the Firebolt to move, although it seemed strangely reluctant. He was lapped several times by the youngsters-and even more embarrassing- was lapped by Ron. Puffing from the unusual exertion, Harry was the last to finish the six laps. The test administrator discreetly checked her watch and gasped. A few youngsters were yawning as he landed.

The instructor started speaking again. "Well, my name is Hermione-"

Ron and Harry gaped, "What?!" "Hermione, what happened to you?! Were you in a potions accident and-"

Hermione frowned, "Haha, very funny. I may share a name with the most famous witch in history, but you don't have to look at me like that." The old men just stared. "If it's a problem, you can call me Ms. Adams."

"Wait," Ron said, "So does that mean there are people named after m-Ron Weasely?"

"Who?"

"...Never mind."

Ms. Adams said, "So, we will be testing potential Keepers first. Get into a line over here."

Ron strode forward, along with two other youths. All three went to separate goals, and Harry grinned. He knew Ron wouldn't have a chance. One old man against two professionals?

Some assistants began chucking Quaffles at the Keepers, who immediately flew into action. The other two Keepers blocked the Quaffles flawlessly. And Ron… Harry gasped. Ron was also blocking every single ball that came his way. Somehow, one of his competitors accidently hit a ball into the goal, and the other missed a Quaffle by a centimeter. Ron let loose a Tarzan roar, and landed triumphantly on the Quidditch field.

Harry grunted, then clapped Ron on the shoulder. Ron whispered, "It's all thanks to you, mate. Do you remember our sixth year in Hogwarts with the potion?"

"You got your hands on Felix Felicity?!" Harry shouted incredulously.

At these words, Ms. Adams seemed to Apparate in front of them, and marched them both to her office waiting room.

"I'll deal with you and your blatant breaking of our rules later," she huffed.

As they waited, Harry questioned Ron. "So, how in the blue blazes did you find Felix Felicis?"

"I didn't; I just pulled the same trick you did in sixth year, remember?"

Abruptly, Harry recalled that day when he pretended to spike Ron's drink with the luck potion. "Wait, you pretended to spike your _own_ drink? I thought you couldn't know it was fake for it to work. How does that even work?"

Ron shrugged, "I guess being weak minded has its upsides. I try not to think about it too much."

Both were silent for a time, then sat up expectantly when Ms. Adams entered her office.

"You," she said, pointing to Harry, "come into my office."

Slowly, Harry shuffled into the room, then crossed his arms. "I've done nothing wrong. My acquaintance outside broke the rules without my knowledge."

Ms. Adams sighed, "Actually, I asked you in here because of the test earlier. I think you made it abundantly clear that-"

"Is this about me being old? When I was a young man, we actually used to show respect to our elders. Everyone practically worshipped Dumbledore!"

"_You_ had Dumbledore?! How old _are _you?"

"You're not looking so young yourself."

Ms. Adams shrugged the insult off and continued, "Wait, so did you guys fight in the Wizarding War?"

Harry stared. "You don't… recognize me?"

"Well, I've heard stories, but I wasn't even born when it happened. I'd love to hear about it, if you have any stories."

Harry sighed. He knew his Quidditch tryout so far hadn't exactly been… exemplary. However, influencing an official with his fame seemed low, even for his falling standards.

"Just evaluate me as you would for anyone else."

"You failed, but you did make a brand new record. Slowest flying out of anyone to ever tryout for the Chudley Cannons."

Harry's eye twitched. Slowly, he walked to the door.

She continued, "But, I liked your determination. How would you like to be a member of the Senior Quidditch Team? Just leave us your name, and we'll contact you later."

As he opened the door, he smiled. "I'm Harry Potter."


End file.
